Chapter 2: A Stranger's House

The smell of pinewood, faint herbs, and something… burning... filled the small hut nestled deep within the mountain village.

Sayaka lay on a straw mat that creaked under her slightest movement. Her eyes fluttered open, the wooden ceiling spinning slowly above her like some ancient merry-go-round.

“Ugh… where… am I…?”

Her body was heavy, like it had been buried under sandbags. The memory of the forest, the cold breeze against her skin, and that rough voice of the man who found her—it all came back in flickers.

The door creaked open.

A tall woman in her late 30s walked in, her auburn hair tied in a loose braid, a small wooden bucket in her hand and a calm expression that radiated both warmth and mystery.

“You’re awake,” she said with a soft smile. “You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

Sayaka sat up suddenly, wincing.

“Two days?!”

The woman placed the bucket down and poured water into a small wooden bowl.

“Don’t push yourself. You were found unconscious near the mountain pass. That hunter boy carried you here half-frozen and babbling nonsense about 'not remembering clothes'."

Sayaka flushed.

Right. Naked. In a magical forest. With zero context. 10 out of 10 Isekai entry.

“Where am I…? What is this place?” she muttered, more to herself than to the woman.

“You’re in Kymo Village. The last stop before the Snowveil Ranges. My name’s Elara Frostbite. I’m… let’s say, semi-retired. I used to be a field medic. Now I raise herbs, and occasionally, lost girls with mysterious circumstances.”

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Sayaka blinked.

Was this woman being serious or just had a dry sense of humor?

“Elara-san,” she started, struggling to get the words out, “I don’t remember anything. I mean… I remember my world, but not how I got here. No portal. No godly message. Just... trees. And cold.”

Elara stirred something in a small clay pot near the fire.

“Hmm. A drifter, then. Rare, but not impossible. People slip through from time to time. Different skies, different lands. Sometimes even from books.”

She chuckled.

“You’re lucky to be alive. Most end up… well, let’s not talk about that before lunch.”

Sayaka’s stomach growled like a dragon with indigestion. Elara raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose you are from another world. Because no girl from this region would sleep through one of my stews.”

She smiled faintly.

“Eat. And when you're done, we'll talk about what comes next.”

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LATER THAT NIGHT

Wrapped in a soft blanket near the fireplace, Sayaka stared into the dancing flames.

“This place… is so calm. Too calm. Almost… fake.”

She clutched her knees to her chest.

“Why me? If this is a fantasy world, where’s my magic? My powers? My grand destiny?”

“…Or at least some pants when I landed?”

She looked around the dim room—simple furniture, herbs hanging from the ceiling, a dusty bookshelf.

“...I guess this is better than being dead.”

The door creaked again. Elara walked in with two cups of something that looked suspiciously green.

“You’ll need strength. The world’s not kind to those without power,” she said, handing her a cup.

Sayaka looked at the drink, then at Elara.

“Elara-san… do you believe people can change their fate?”

The older woman didn’t answer at first. She simply sat down, stirring her drink.

“Yes. But fate has claws. If you want to change it… you’ll have to bleed.”

Sayaka’s fingers clenched around the cup.

“Then I’ll bleed. But I won’t break.”